Daddy Daughter Time
by imaninja41
Summary: Connor has a serious discussion with his daughter.


Why have I done this? What actions could I have done differently, that could have prevented this torture, this hell?

"I blame you for this." I hissed out. "Before you came along, I was questioned by no one. I was feared. I had no fear, no concerns. My life was simple."

The dark brown eyes of the girl I addressed blinked, but showed no emotion. Even I, an assassin trained to read faces like a book, could not see any emotions, hidden or shown. "I was an important, powerful man."

She seemed to lose interest in what I said, as she turned away, eyes wandering around the room she had been in hundreds of times. Yet she looked at it as if she had never been here. Her eyes took in every detail, and I could see her mind set to work, trying to piece together just how many things she could climb, break, rip, burn, or otherwise ruin.

Fearing if I let her run wild, I scooped her up in my arms, holding her close so she wouldn't run off. "And now I babysit. This is entirely your fault... I am afraid of a toddler, one who cannot even speak."

She let out a grunt, trying to squirm from my hold as I walked around the room, gathering several books, paper, ink, and a quill. Her eyes lit up at the quill, and she tried to grab it from me. She did like feathers, seeing as she had several braided into her hair. I held the quill out of her immediate reach, not wanting to have another one of my quills broken and chewed up.

"What was your mother thinking? Leaving you here? She should know well enough that I cannot handle you alone. I know you can understand me, when I ask if you are hungry, you come running. When I tell you it is time to take a bath, you run and hide in a bush. But I ask you who broke the vase in the hallway; you act like you are deaf."

As if sensing she was somehow being accused of wrongdoing, she acted as if she hadn't heard me, staring off at the study door. "Yes, keep acting innocent. You may be able to pull it off for another year."

I settled down at the desk, keeping the two foot tall devil in my lap, while placing the paper and writing necessities out in front of me. Again, she tried to grab the quill, but I fended her off as best I could, while finishing my journal entry. "You are very distracting, you know."

She was still trying to take my quill.

"I have much to do, and you are persistently trying to delay me. Please stop this."

Again, she attempts to take the quill. "Brilliant, your mother gets to go off, tailing a snitch, and I am stuck here with you. Which I do not mind as much as you might think, you are my daughter, and I love you. However, you seem to make it your sole purpose in life to make me not want to spend my time with you."

Why was she so interested in this feather!? She has seen many feathers, she has feathers in her hair, she has seen me retrieve feathers from an eagle nest, why is this feather so hypnotic? "Fine! Have it your way!"

I surrender the feather and she settles down into my lap, quietly running her hands along the feather's edges. "Why are you so restless? We spent all morning running in the woods. We swam in the river. And at your _insistence_, you spent two hours trying to catch a rabbit. You should have been dead on your feet by lunch. But no. After you finally managed to catch a rabbit, you decided we would race up the mountain. By the way, I let you win."

Her head shot up to stare at me, mouth half open. I smirked, "Did you really think you bested me so easily? Perhaps when you grow several feet, you will stand a chance."

She stuck her lower lip out in a pout, to which I could only chuckle. "And after you 'won' that race, at the top of the mountain you decided you wanted to jump off the cliff."

She giggled a little, giving up on pouting. "Yes, thank you for the needless and sudden heart failure."

She tucked the end of the quill into her mouth, stumbling up to stand on my thighs.

"Honestly, I love playing with you, but your father is not as young as he used to be." My hand automatically covered my old wound. It had never fully healed, something internal was still not right. A dull ache would overtake whenever I ran to fast, and at worst, a sharp pain whenever jumped from a tree. "Jumping off of that cliff to retrieve you did not feel _good_."

The look she gave him seemed to request some sort of furthering of the story. "After I screamed, of course."

And now the devious little child is grinning, at her own personal little joke. "It is nothing to laugh about! After I dragged you out of the water, Terry showed up, asking if I had heard a woman scream."

And now she is outright laughing at me. "Do you find my pain funny?"

More laughing.

I finally sigh, giving up on ever getting her to respond to me in any way. She sticking to her 'I cannot talk' act. Deny to the grave, is this what I have taught her? I will admit she does it well. She really is her mother's daughter. A perfect actress and a flawless liar. With smile as sweet as honey that disarms you, and underneath an untamed bobcat ready to slash at your throat until it is severed.

Underneath all of that, I can pick up bits and pieces of myself. I can see it in the way she frowns, the way she runs, how she always wants to be outside, running around. She's even starting to sit down in chairs like me. Last night at dinner, she tried to turn her chair around, and straddle it like she had seen me sit several times. I could feel Aveline's eyes boring holes into my skull. If looks could kill, I would not have survived that night. That being said, I had to sleep in the guest bedroom.

I leaned back in my chair, regarding the tiny girl with a tired smile, "I know you can understand me, so let me make it clear. Regardless of anything I have said before, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I love you. And when you grow up, no matter what you want to do with your life, become an assassin, a doctor, a merchant, or simply a wife and mother, I will support you through all of it. I know you will eventually be sought after by men, and no matter how much I do not like the idea, you will return feelings for at least one. If I attempt to kill him, promise me you will forgive me?"

Only an empty stare. "Pretending not to understand, huh?"

No response.

"Perhaps that is the best way." I hummed. "But on the off chance, I approve of this suitor, promise me you will be wed in the traditional Mohawk fashion?"

She nodded, once. "Thank you."

The restless whirlwind took the quill from her mouth, and shot her tiny fingers into a strand of hair that fell, lightly tugging here and there. "What are you doing?"

She immediately pulled away, grinning again. She took one of my hands, and placed it over one if the braids in her hair, a feather intertwined in the strands. She took my other hand, putting it over the area where she had been fiddling. I felt a hastily made braid there, with the feather loosely tucked in. As bad a job as it was, I couldn't help but smile at the adorable gesture.

She had braided my hair to look like hers. "Same."

My eyes widened, "Huh?" Did she just speak? She clearly just spoke!

Her grin only grew bigger as she dropped my hands, and threw her tiny arms around my neck, snuggling her face into the space where my shoulder met my throat. She took a deep breath, yawned, and then mumbled, "Daddy."

My heart swelled with joy, unable to do anything else but simply hug my daughter back. Not only was I incredibly happy to hear her call me 'Daddy' for the first time in her life, but I was also pretty happy that she was asleep.

**THREE HOURS LATER, WITH AVELINE:**

After getting home, I immediately knew something was very wrong. Broken glass didn't dot the floor. Ripped paper didn't decorate the furniture. There were no screams, from Connor, or our daughter. Something was very wrong.

I quickly rushed up the stairs, throwing open the door to my daughter's nursery. The crib is empty! I didn't even feel my feet hit the ground as I ran down the hall to me and my husband's room, certain to find him gone or dead. But instead, he's fast asleep, shirt off, loose pants on, arms wrapped around our child as they both sleep.

I slip out of my assassin outfit, pulling on an old, cotton nightgown. As silently as I can manage, I get into bed next to my husband. He's a heavy sleeper, so all he does is mumble something unintelligible, and pull our daughter closer to him in his sleep.


End file.
